Last Ones Standing
by xChristabelx
Summary: Jack and James draw hope from each other's presence while being imprisoned on a slave ship. Sparrington


**A/N: **Thanks to xdragonsbreathx for beta reading.

I wrote this fic for the 31days challenge at lj

**Last Ones Standing**

"You know I'll kill you should we get out of this mess alive, Sparrow." James ground out, as a cold sweaty hand moved to clutch at his broken ribs which jarred painfully with each heaving breath.

A ragged chuckle sounded from the man lying next to him. "It's Captain Sparrow, Jamie." Jack admonished as usual, using the name that he knew would annoy James to no end, his voice cracking with the need for water. "An' it wasn' my fault they thought we'd make good slaves."

Ocean green eyes glassy with fever settled on Jack's equally fevered form, James turning his head with great difficulty. "I told you they were slavers. You were the one who insisted that we attack."

Now it was Jack's turn to make the effort to look at James. "Would've ended up like this anyway. There wasn' any more water. Not even rum." Jack sighed at the thought of his favourite drink but the intake of breath made him break down in hacking painful coughs and the pirate tasted blood in his mouth which he spit out.

"Better 'ere than on me Pearl." He continued speaking once he regained his breath. "She's too good a girl t' see me like this."

Had the circumstances been different, James would have surely awarded Jack's sentimentality with a scathing jibe, but in their current situation it didn't even cross his mind.

The two men didn't know how long it had been since the attack on he slave ship had gone wrong and the crew of the Black Pearl had been captured, but the rest of the crew was dead or near to dying now. So were Jack and James, but, both being stubborn in nature they were going to outrun death as long as they could.

A clammy hand reached out for one of Jack's and James sat up, the fever wracking his body making the world tilt dangerously, leaving him weak and nauseous. But nonetheless he undertook the task near impossible to him and heaved his body to lie as close to Jack as possible.

Lifting one of his hands ever so slowly, the limb feeling heavy as lead, Jack reached up to push a strand of limp dark hair from James' forehead and James mirrored the other man's actions. Cupping one side of Jack's fevered face and tracing one of the high cheek bones which were jutting out even more than usual from lack of food with his thumb, James locked his eyes on Jack's dark ones, feeling that he could die right there, that he could just get lost in those inky depths and it would never matter. They were so close now that their noses were almost touching and the gap was closed within seconds, seconds without a thought.

The kiss was tentative and weak at first, but soon became frantic and desperate, both men wincing and hissing as their various injuries protested, but they were ignored. There was only this moment, the only warmth and reassurance left in this situation being each other's presence and support.

They broke apart soon, both James and Jack gasping for breath, but still clutching at each other, weakly racing hearts pounding against their chests. This was nothing either of them had ever thought about. There had been no fantasising about the other in either of their minds, but at that moment it felt the most natural and most comforting thing to do.

"We are only doing this because we might well be dead in the morning." James pressed out between trembling lips, his head lying on Jack's shoulder.

"Don' talk like that, Jamie." Jack said, close to James' ear, so that he didn't have to strain his voice too much, but he felt so weak that he could hardly believe his own words. "There's still 'ope." He was, though still Captain Jack Sparrow, weakened and sick to the core, but he was still the man that had bested death at the worst of times and it was never his nature to give up.

"There is?" James eyes were wide and shining, his mind desperately trying to figure out if he was really having this conversation, this close and comforting contact with Jack. A kiss to his temple made James realise that it really was happening.

"There is." Jack assured with as much resolution as he could muster. "We're no' the last ones standin' fer no reason." Jack reached over to his right, his hand sliding through the cell's bars to take hold of a sword which lay next to a dead slaver, one who had once been a guard. "The way 'm seeing this, " Jack began, his voice taking on a little more of the confidence it usually held, "the slavers're no better of than we are. Only five of 'em left, barely enough to sail this 'ere ship." The pirate's hand played idly with the handle of the weapon.

The expression James turned on his companion was a mixture of hope despair and desperation. A dry chuckle escaped his lips. "You're daft, Jack." He said. "But what the hell. We're so close to dying we might as well try."

Jack held up a finger and wagged it in James' face. "Ye're missin' the point 'ere, mate." he countered. "We might as well live."


End file.
